


Rebuilding

by deathwailart



Series: Dragon Knights [OLD] [15]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Dragons, Elves, Engagement, F/F, High Fantasy, Knighting, Knights - Freeform, Love Confessions, Nymphs & Dryads, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 07:02:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathwailart/pseuds/deathwailart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war with the dark forces has ended, the dragons have returned and Stjarnacado is rebuilding, promising to learn from the past and become unified once more with the northern elven kingdom and the humans leading the way.  But before Tanis and Ilea can enjoy the peace they've helped to create, they have to live through Tanis' knighting by the elves and their engagement in Tishlen as well as a ceremony in Jormsen followed by their wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Knighting

"I feel ridiculous," Tanis complains, rubbing at her now smooth legs until someone moves her hand out of the way to file her nails into shape – what little she has, at any rate, a source of much tutting from the elves making her presentable. "I'll be in armour, no one will see."  
  
"Her majesty will," one of the elves, a male named Vali, replies as he starts to rub a balm onto her skin. It smells rich, like something from the south, a type of bean that grows in huge trees that they turn into sweet foods and drinks as well as these balms.  
  
"Her ma- _oh_!" She stops, realisation dawning. To her, Ilea is just Ilea but to these elves Ilea is the only daughter of Tishlen's royal family. Of course she blushes – they've known for a long time that she and Ilea have been close, even when the war was going on there was confirmation of it and before that there were rumours about Ilea becoming too close to _that human_ but to hear it spoken of so openly, without judgement is more than she ever thought they would have. Of course not everyone accepts them being together even though they're heroes but it helps to ease her anxiety.  
  
"Up, on your feet," the other elf, Nyrali, commands so up she gets, fighting the urge to squirm as they examine her critically, walking in a circle around her; the underclothes leave little to the imagination and around strangers the raised, blackened scar on her chest is a source of lingering embarrassment and shame. "Right then. Armour."  
  
"What about her hair?"  
  
"After the armour."  
  
"That doesn't seem right."  
  
" _After_ the armour-"  
  
"How about the tunic, then my hair and _then_ my armour?"  
  
The compromise works. They dress her in a tunic of mulberry before each taking a comb to tackle her hair, careful with any snarls they encounter. A section at either side is braided to hold her hair out of her face leaving her with nowhere to hide but she understands why – braids are elven and this is a sign that of the closeness between their people, the same as her tunic of mulberry to match the colour Ilea so often favours. This whole day is a day of compromise and they'll do the same in Jormsen once the weather improves. Once her hair is done they both bustle off to collect her armour and she is left alone with her churning stomach, fighting the urge to wipe her sweating palms on her legs. This whole day feels like a bad dream even after months of declarations and treaties and summits and all the rebuilding they've barely even begun; she was a part of all of that but today wasn't her idea or Ilea's. This is the grand idea dreamt up by the royalty and nobility of Tishlen and the new council of elders under the rule of the new elected king, Brynjar. If it had been anyone other than Brynjar she might have objected but after the kingsmoot where so many expected her to stand, some reacting with shock and anger when she said she had no designs for ruling and threw her support with Brynjar she goes along with his choices as a show of solidarity. So today she's going to allow herself to be presented to the people of both Tishlen and Jormsen, the first gathering of both courts (for a given value of court when it comes to Jormsen) and the first Dragon Knight to be formally knighted and recognised in over four hundred years. Oh and the small matter of some formal announcement of her engagement to Ilea tonight when the feasting begins before the wedding on the anniversary of the war ending. She wishes they'd both run off to Borea when Oran had offered even if the offer had been made in jest. Mostly.  
  
"Tanis?" A voice calls, making her jump but she knows that voice well and calls them in quickly, hardly recognising her mother in her long gown, her hair falling in loose waves.  
"I thought you might be a little..."  
  
"Terrified?"  
  
"Apprehensive." Her mother's smirk puts her at ease. Tanis doesn't know her half as well as her mother knows her because the last time they spent long in one another's company Tanis was someone else, angry and hurting, not the woman she is now but they have time now to get to know one another when they're not off aiding in the rebuilding process. A kiss is pressed to her brow as something soft is placed in her palm. "A little something to settle your stomach, chew it and let it sit under your tongue."  
  
"Gerenthe," Tanis says gratefully as she immediately follows the advice, the taste of the herbs exploding across her tongue until she packs them beneath it. She'll swallow just before she has to step into the main hall. "I can't believe this is real."  
  
Her mother's smile is fierce and proud – her smiles come from her mother. "Believe it, you've earned this. You've given us all so much." The lump in her throat stops her from speaking so she finds her mother's hands and squeezes, holding tight.  
  
Of course that's when Vali and Nyrali return with several others lugging in the chests her new armour is in and the fear that it won't fit or that she'll look ridiculous in it return and she glares at the chests as though she'll somehow be able to see the ceremonial armour within.  
  
"I should go," her other begins but Tanis tugs at her.  
  
"Stay. Please?"  
  
"Are you-"  
  
"Oh mothers are always present for such things," Nyrali says as Vali waves off the helpers.  
  
"Today was simply so busy," Vali adds, "we didn't know where to find you!" It's likely a lie but it's a nice lie so Tanis lets it slide as they begin the process of putting her armour on, somehow managing to prevent her from seeing it. It feels solid, not as heavy as her normal armour but not as flimsy as she fear but she still has no clue what it looks like although from the sounds it's making, it has to be some sort of mail; when she thinks she'll get a look as they put it over her head, they make sure her eyes are closed first.  
  
Finally, she's dressed in her armour and that's when she sees the tears in her mother's eyes when she looks at her and both elves are beaming, Nyrali rushing to tug a cloak (hers, she realises, mulberry with Jormsen's sigil embroidered in silver on it) from the mirror so she can at least see herself. Scale armour. She's wearing scale armour polished to a brilliant sheen, so dark it looks almost black, her boots and trousers matching. There's a breastplate added, decorated with filigree patterns and a large dragon on the front.  
  
"This is..." she swallows, taking a few steps closer to the mirror turning this way and that for a better look. She's never owned something so fine before and the fact that this was made for her alone is more than a little overwhelming. "It's stunning," she finishes, running her fingers over the reflection so she doesn't smudge on the armour.  
  
"Isn't it?" Vali gushes, guiding her back to fuss with her hair once more. "I'd only heard stories of human smiths-"  
  
"Wait, _human_?"  
  
"Torrin." Her mother is grinning when she speaks, rushing over to cup her cheeks and press one last kiss to her brow. "I'll take my seat. Remember to swallow those herbs before you go." Tanis can only nod as her mother leaves, her deep blue gown rustling as she goes.  
  
"You get your colouring from her," Vali says and it makes Tanis smile, holding still as they urge her to sit and tidy her braids .  
  
"Hopefully I'll age half as well," she jokes as they tilt her head to make sure the braids don't pull too tight.  
  
"Was she young when she had you? For a human."  
  
"She was nineteen so yes, I suppose she was but I was her second child and we've been having children at a young age for a long time."  
  
"Two children in such a short time?" Nyrali doesn't seem to know if she should be amazed or appalled at that so she musters a smile as best she can, as ever caught off guard when discussing fertility and children with elves.  
  
"Much is going to change," a glance at the mirror confirms that she looks as confident as she sounds, "you'll see."  
  
The conversation is cut short when there's another knock at the door that has both elves pulling her to her feet, her belt, sword and scabbard buckled at her waist, her cape attached and draped just so.  
  
"Perfect," both elves say in unison.  
  
Never once has she been called perfect and it makes her beam but there's no time to bask in the moment, she's being summoned, immediately swallowing the herbs as she falls into step with the guard charged to collect her. There's no conversation, just the sounds of them walking and then a muffled buzz once she gets to the hall. He nods once at her then to the guards at the door.  
"I bring Tanis of Jormsen before the court, to be knighted by their most illustrious majesties," he announces so pompously that any other time, she might have snorted. But then he's stepping to the side, the doors are opening and the conversations abruptly cease as the fanfare begins, almost deafening.  
  
_Now you have to walk Tanis_ , she thinks to herself and starts moving in even strides, trying to ignore the eyes on her. _And make sure not to trip_. Staring straight ahead, she surreptitiously finds faces she knows – her mother, Oran, Gunhild and Torrin, some of her elders, Southern elves mingled with others from the nomad camp and a couple of nymphs. Brynjar standing proud and tall on the dais alongside the royalty of Tishlen. The king and queen, then Ilea's brothers and their wives.  
  
Ilea herself.  
  
Ilea with her hair falling in thick dark waves clad in a shimmering gown of blue and white and silver that looks as if it were spun of ice and a long cape lined in white fur. Hints of silver armour in places on her gown – decorative rather than protective but it still seems more solid than the leathers she favoured on their journey and oh Solace save her, the necklace (and by Ferrum is it an ugly thing amongst all that finery) Tanis gave her at the nomad camp at her throat. The closer Tanis gets she can see that the upper part of Ilea's hair is braided elaborately, wrapping around her head as with small metal spikes sticking out as if she's wearing a crown but that isn't the part that takes Tanis' breath away. The paleness she noticed and blamed on nervousness is not so, instead her body has been painted white with just a hint of blue with some sort shimmer that has her catching the light. She smiles, a tiny thing given that she's facing a crowd as Tanis steps forward to the base of the stairs leading to the dais. Carefully she kneels, right shin flat on the floor, the left bent with only the foot flat, her left forearm resting across it and the right clutching the hilt of her sword, head bowed respectfully as the king descends to stand before her, sword in hand. Years ago, if asked to picture herself, Ilea and the king in these positions she would have been beaten and bloodied, Ilea restrained and screaming with an angry court to her back hissing in anticipation, the king ready to behead her. Today though, all is well, there's a breathy hush and the king is smiling.  
  
"People of Tishlen, of Jormsen, of Borea," he begins, raising his unarmed hand, "people of other lands who have gathered here today. I am proud to stand before you and to have assembled all for such a joyous occasion. Before us is Tanis, daughter of the north, of the late Hákon and Ragna, a young woman whose deeds we shall sing of for centuries." Applause erupts and he allows it to continue for some time before waving a hand to silence them. "Today we are gathered to see her knighted, the first Dragon Knight of Stjarnacado recognised as such in four hundred years!" There's another roar of approval, almost deafening and Tanis seizes her chance to look up and meet Ilea's eyes, looking down again when it's clear that there are tears present. She closes her eyes just as the roar stops, readying herself for the tap of a sword on each shoulder. _This is for you_ , she thinks, faces of friends and allies, some with her and some not flashing before her eyes, her father's proud smile lingering.  
  
"Arise Tanis, daughter of the north," the king proclaims and so she does, accepting his hand as he turns her, raising their joined hands to the cheers of the crowd. _This is for you._


	2. Engagement

Immediately following the knighting, Tanis is whisked away from the hall to meet others of importance, a blur of faces and hands, awkward embraces with Ilea's family always with the uncomfortable reminder that she's the youngest person in the room. There are more officials than she thought possible amongst the court of Tishlen and she knows she's never going to remember all of their names and when she finally embraces Brynjar she laughs in relief, flinging her arms around him. He laughs, staggering back a few steps and she remembers she's wearing armour whereas he's wearing a fine tunic instead and she breathlessly apologises as he steadies them both, setting his hands on her shoulders.  
  
"I am so proud of you Tanis," he tells her and she can see the glimmer of tears in his eyes and though she mourned her father, she didn't know him the way Brynjar did. Didn't love him the way Brynjar did.  
  
"This is your victory too," she replies, reaching up to squeeze one of his hands.  "My king," she adds because he is a king, a king standing among his equals and her shout in support of him was the loudest at the moot to choose him.  
  
Brynjar kisses her forehead, smiling sadly. "If he'd been here, your father's heart would have burst with pride. This was his dream, to see us united. To see his child attain all that she deserved."  
  
"Brynjar," she whispers, closing her eyes to keep the tears at bay – there's too much at stake and she's never been one for tears in front of others and kisses her forehead then straightens. "Jernen." It's all that she can manage with her tight throat and she's glad when he pulls her close again so that she can compose herself, wishing she could run back to the room they've given her or better yet, to Ilea's, to curl up and hide, to strip off all this armour and brush out her hair and feel less like some sort of object of fascination.  There's a curl of something against her arm that makes her jump and she spies Oran making her way across, bright blossoms of red, yellow and orange blooming along her arms and atop her head, her vines a lush green.  
  
"Tanis!" She cries and they embrace, Tanis sure she can hear her ribs creaking as Oran does so. Over the nymph's shoulder she can see how many elves are trying – and failing – not to stare at her. Even before the war many elves had never seen a nymph and to see Oran grown as she is startles them. "Look at you! If I could cry then I'm sure I would have."  
  
"I'm so glad you came," Tanis replies as she laughs, bringing both hands up to cup Oran's cheeks, smooth wood beneath her fingers, "but look at _you_."  
  
"I'm happy," Oran says simply, vines twisting and twirling this way and that; one young elven child can't keep his eyes off them and when Oran notices where Tanis is looking, she extends one over to tickle his fingers until he giggles in delight and surprise. "For you. For Ilea. For all of us – my people can start to heal so much now and I was allowed to see the great glass gardens and bring them to life in a way they never were before."  
  
"Ilea said she would take me to see them." The glass gardens are said to be beautiful, a greenhouse as balmy as the jungles of the south where they grow all manner of plants simply for enjoyment.  
  
"I'm sure she will when you both have the time, speaking of which..." Oran rustles, a sound Tanis has come to associate with her being excited or happy and scarcely able to contain it and at last Ilea appears, pale and shimmering like the light of the moon.  
  
This close, Tanis is rendered speechless and this time she knows she's not imagining every eye in the room being on them. They've scarcely had a moment together since arriving in Tishlen, meetings and rehearsals and fittings and constant motion; though they sleep in the same bed, they've been too tired to do more than sleep, barely able to mumble a word to one another before collapsing to toss and turn when nerves about the day ahead surface. There's probably some sort of decorum she should observe but she doesn't care and starts to stride across the room to Ilea before she suddenly comes to a halt, both of them staring at each like startled deer. It's ridiculous. They're heroes, no one has objected to their union (well, not since they finally stated that objections meant nothing at all to them) and despite the fact that there's an official engagement tonight, they're already married. Whatever Tanis has been feeling up to now manifests in a snort of laughter and that starts Ilea off then the elf is falling into her arms, head on Tanis' shoulder. After that it's the simple matter of gathering her close and praying that she's not going to be stained blue.  
  
"Oh Tanis," she sighs, pulling back and her paint not smudged so Tanis reaches out to stroke her cheek – whatever it is, it feels almost like chalk, dry not wet even though it glitters. "You must have heard it half a hundred times already but you looked wonderful, so tall and noble, like some hero from a story."  
  
"I think I _am_ a hero of a story, perhaps you remember being there?" She teases and Ilea shoves her lightly.  
  
"You're terrible. And I love you." There's a huge smile on her face as she says it and it's the easiest thing in the world to kiss her without a care in the world in that moment, onlookers be damned. Oran at least laughs but Tanis tunes it out, her whole world narrowed down to Ilea.  
  
"And I you. I thought you were going to faint."  
  
"Did you see your own face? There was a moment where you looked as though you were about to marry a dwarf."  
  
"Says the one painted blue."  
  
"I've been up since before first light," she complains and Tanis balks, kissing her temple, "this takes some time to dry and several coats to make sure it's even. Over every inch of me."  
  
" _Every_ inch?"  
  
"Every. Inch." Ilea confirms grimly. "Needless to say our engagement begins with me in the bath for at least an hour."  
  
Tanis manages to heave a very impressive resigned sigh given the situation. "Then I suppose I will be forced to scrub your back for you."  
  
"Such a chore, however will you manage?"  
  
"Tis the price one pays for love."  
  
They're both laughing when there's a cough, Ilea's mother smiling at the assembled company.  
  
"I regret to cut this short but there is a feast awaiting us all and many courses to get through before we come to the festivities this evening, if you would all join me please." She waves for Ilea and Tanis to join her, Ilea leading Tanis by the hand as the queen begins to arrange them all in pairs according to how they will enter the dining hall. "Now, as the lady of the moment, you shall be seated beside myself my dear. To think," Tanis has to force herself not to jump when the queen is suddenly cupping her face in both hands, leaning close and smelling of sweet summer blossoms, "I shall gain another daughter!"  
  
" _Mother_ ," Ilea hisses at her elbow. "We're already married, I told you that – Tanis _is_ your daughter."  
  
"Now dear, tradition is important – wouldn't you agree Tanis?"  
  
There's no time to hesitate and Tanis would rather agree with the queen for the moment and explain herself to Ilea later so she nods and hopes her smile looks confident and warm. "Of course your grace, tradition is hugely important to my people."  
  
"You see?" Ilea rolls her eyes as her mother gives her a satisfied smirk. "Ah good, we're all ready, shall we?" Ilea's father smiles and links arms with his wife as Brynjar, the next highest guest of honour after Tanis herself, takes his place ahead of them, Ilea's family before and behind them.  
  
"Ilea," she whispers even though every elf is going to be able to hear her, using the language they came up with on their quest, human words and elven grammar, "how long does this feast last?"  
  
"If you're able to move tonight without crying out in pain, I'll be impressed."  
  
"You jest."  
  
"Not at all," Ilea replies but before they can say more, they're filing into yet another grand hall of marble and glass, hanging baskets of fine gold hanging from pillars with fragile white flowers trailing down from them, a grand chandelier hanging from the centre of the room covered with so many candles it dazzles the eye. Ilea is the one to nudge Tanis to take her seat as she tears her eyes away from the chandelier to pick out her mother and Gunhild and others seated at the main tables, chatting amicably with elves. At least they're all enjoying themselves and the food when it's presented smells wonderful. She can manage a feast if she managed her knighting, she's sure of that.  
  
As it turns out, she can just about manage the meal though by each course (seven, _seven_ whole courses) she's eating less and less and dessert, some strange concoction that seems to be citrus fruit and sugar constructed into fanciful spun towers almost turns her stomach. Her wine is sipped only for toasts and even then she makes sure it's watered down. She still has to get through the engagement after all without embarrassing herself although that is down to Ilea because she's just been told that it's happening with no further instruction, her questions waved away. Ilea is quiet but she has little time to address that thanks to Ilea's parents chatting away to her, asking this question and that although it gives her a good reason not to eat. It's hard to let go of her bitterness towards them but they're pleasant and seem genuinely interested in getting to know her even though she knows for a fact that both of them fought in the war that crushed her people. They want to know about rebuilding, about her early life, about her and Ilea and the king sighs and looks like a lovestruck fool when she explains it all even though it started with arguments that devolved into fights.  
  
"It reminds him of us," the queen explains with a shake of the head, smacking him lightly.  
  
"She was very much a firebrand, this wild creature astride a griffin in those days when we courted. I said I would only marry her and she said she would sooner let her griffin pluck out my eyes."  
  
"We argued a great deal, we even duelled, it was how you eased tensions in those days you see, trends have changed unfortunately and..."  
  
"Well one thing led to another as they say." He waggles his eyebrows and Tanis is reminded so strongly of her father that she has to fake a cough and take a steadying gulp of her wine, wishing more than ever that he were here to see this day. Brynjar peers past the elven rulers and she manages a smile, Ilea's hand squeezing her thigh under the table and she clasps it with her free hand. "I suppose we should all withdraw?" The king suggests at length. Ilea sucks in a breath and Tanis looks between them. "All will be revealed soon enough, come."  
  
Once he rises, so does everyone in the hall and they remain that way as everyone files out, Ilea tugging Tanis along, their fingers linked so tight it hurts but when she says as much, Ilea only gives her a distracted grimace and continues to keep hold of her, up, up, up several flights of winding stairs. The amount she's eaten starts to pose an issue because climbing the stairs is tiring and all she wants to do is lie in a hot bath with Ilea then curl up against her, perhaps wake her in the early hours when she feels less full but all she can do is follow. They come to a halt in the centre of the room on a circular tile emblazoned with a many pointed star, Ilea positioning her so they're facing, their hands linked. Ragna, Oran and Gunhild have joined them all, Ragna holding hands with the king who holds hands with the queen who holds hands with Brynjar and so on and so forth, Oran positioned between a prince and her son.  
  
"Since the earliest days we have realised that we search for another to join our lives – we have our kin by blood, our kith by choice and yet it is not always enough," Ilea begins in a strange solemn tone voice, rubbing her thumb over the back of Tanis' hand as she intones, "these unions do not always last a lifetime and I would place no restrictions upon your heart for it is not my place to do such a thing so all I would ask is honesty. I would ask of you no more than I would ask of myself: that come summer sun or winter storm, through war and peace, whether I be hale and hearty of confined to my bed but above all else to love me as I love you until such times as our union comes to an end." As she speaks, Tanis can feel tears prick at her eyes, her hands feeling hot and sweaty in Ilea's who gives her a flicker of a nervous smile. "Are these terms you accept?"  
  
"Ia," Tanis says automatically before remembering what language she should be using, "yes."  
  
"So it is done," Ilea says and is echoed by everyone surrounding them.  
  
"The engagement period shall be as long as you may wish but no shorter than one turn of the moon," the queen says as she steps forward to embrace them both, planting a kiss on their foreheads in turn. "But now I would ask you both to step forth so that the people of Tishlen – and all others who have gathered here – to see you both."  
  
"Ready?" Ilea asks, taking Tanis by the hand as someone gives her a little push.  
  
"Where are we..." And then she stops and looks up, realising there are stairs and a door. "Oh, so-"  
  
"So we go up and wave to the crowd," Ilea confirms and fortunately she looks just as nervous as Tanis does. "Make sure I don't trip," she continues in a hushed tone and Tanis can only nod and smile.  
  
"I feel it would be an ill omen."  
  
There's no more time for them to talk though as they're ushered up the stairs, Ilea knocking and before Tanis can ask, two guards haul the doors open to let a blast of cold air hit them and even though they're accustomed to the cold, Tanis has to wonder just how much the chill hits Ilea in her fine gown. Dutifully, she makes sure Ilea doesn't trip as they both step forward, heads held high before exchanging a look. Even nervous as she is, Tanis can feel the strain in her cheeks from smiling and together they raise their joined hands to cheers from below, a sea of people beneath them, some waving flags and banners. It feels like something out of a dream and force once, Tanis would not mind if she never woke from it.


	3. Ceremony

When they set out from Tishlen ahead of everyone else for the ceremony they're to undergo in Jormsen before their wedding, Ilea watches the tension lift from Tanis' shoulders at last as they start the long walk north. Offers of horses and carriages were made, griffins too but it feels right to walk there the way they did when they first set out in earnest on their journey. It feels good to be back in her leathers and a warm cloak with her daggers and bow, arrows rattling quietly in their quiver as she and Tanis traverse a healing land. Oran was welcome to join them but she elected to travel with Brynjar and Ragna, insisting that they deserved their alone time and Ilea has to agree that it's a good thing for Tanis. She's finally stopped clenching her jaw because Ilea knows that being around too many people at once with no escape routes is exhausting for Tanis, especially elves she doesn't know who are all clamouring to be her best friend and to be regaled with stories about the war when Tanis has only just had time to sit down and take stock, to fully grieve for her fallen father. In all honesty, Ilea's been feeling the strain herself; the road has been good to her, has given her a wife and friends and a greater freedom to be herself and all the pomp and circumstance of elven ceremonies had her grinding her teeth.  
  
"I missed seeing you like this," Tanis says abruptly after they've been walking in companionable silence since saying farewell to their families after a breakfast they couldn't avoid. She shifts her pack on her shoulder, head tipped up in the watery sun of early spring, the wind ruffling her hair, still in faint waves from the braids Ilea talked her into the previous day. "In your leathers and ready for battle."  
  
"I thought you always said my armour was too impractical for battle," she teases, reaching to grab the hand closest to her, squeezing it gently and it feels right again now that she's wearing her two fingered glove.  
  
"Your armour _is_ impractical when you try to wade into battle – remember?" Both brows rise and Ilea sighs because Tanis has a point and she'll never let Ilea forget that but she loves that about her. "Though for an archer I suppose it's more practical than what I wear. But compared to those dresses you wore – how do you not freeze to death?"  
  
"You've spent too much time with soft southerners who've never seen the snow."  
  
"Ilea, I believe I am being charitable when I call some of your garments 'clothes'. By Solace, I could see practically everything."  
  
"I didn't hear any complaints at the time."  
  
Tanis goes red and gives her a shove. "You know what I mean."  
  
"I do. And I missed you like this, not just the armour," although a large part is the armour because Tanis' armour is such a part of her and she enjoys getting to help her take it off, stealing kisses and touches as she does so, making Tanis breathless and weak at the knees before they've even started, "but you like this. Happy."  
  
"Do you think I was unhappy in Tishlen?"  
  
For a moment, Ilea dearly wants to kick herself, gripping the hand in hers tighter as she swings herself around quickly to place herself in front of Tanis, taking hold of her other hand as she leans in to steal a kiss.  
  
"I know you were happy in Tishlen, never doubt that because I didn't, not for a moment. But it was not so long ago that you first came to my home and saw your people in chains, where you yourself were commanded. I know we said that we wouldn't bring it up but-"  
  
"But it's still hard sometimes." It's a quiet admission and Ilea lets go of Tanis' hands to pull her close, cheek to cheek, allowing Tanis to rest her weight against her. "When do we stop living in the past?"  
  
"I don't think we get to. But others will – the children." She's careful, wondering if the words will hurt more than they'll help given what she knows but Tanis smiles and nods, cupping Ilea's cheek when she pulls back before she starts moving again. "I know my people have a taste for lavish displays," she says once they're moving again.  
  
"I have never had so many people dressing me and fussing over me in my life Ilea and I gave birth to twins."  
  
"Your mother said you showed great restraint."  
  
"You'll find things are different in Jormsen although I think I might be the first person my age to get married there in centuries, I wonder if we even have books about the ceremony, it won't be the same as the ceremony older folk have."  
  
"Do I get to find out about this ceremony?" Tanis grins – really it's bordering on a smirk in Ilea's opinion – and kisses her cheek. "Tanis!"  
  
"You'll find out when we get there."  
  
"I told you what would happen!"  
  
"This is something for the elders to tell you – Ilea," there's a pause where Tanis takes a breath and Ilea watches keenly to make sure she isn't rolling her eyes at her, "my people only marry when they are older and those ceremonies are more about not wanting to be alone when you begin to feel your worth slipping away from you. Our ceremony is likely to be very different. _Solace_ will be there!" As ever, there's a brightness that seems almost childlike whenever a dragon is mentioned as being there and present and it makes Ilea's heart soar, to see Tanis at peace and so much less torn and bereft. "She was involved in such ceremonies in the past. There is much that I know nothing of and if she is here, if we are to be wed, a human and an elf then perhaps something new will be born of this."  
  
Again, Ilea feels like kicking herself because she's over a hundred now and somehow she forgets just how much the humans lost and how dearly they hold their traditions because they are all they have left of the old days. Now they are rebuilding with the knowledge the dragons kept and not trying to reforge their ancient empire, rather they're working together so that the mistakes of the past won't be repeated. Her traditions are so old that she follows them because it's expected of her because there's no chance they're going to be forgotten whereas with humans she's sure they worry about what else they might lose through failing to carry it out. Her stomach churns and she almost loses her footing when it hits her; an elf likely having an impact on the reshaping of a people when she'll get to live long enough to see what comes of it. It's an honour she's not sure she'll ever deserve but luckily Tanis tugs her along, telling her that they can't dawdle because she doesn't want the slow march of wedding guests to catch up to them. Ilea's sure her mother hasn't even started deciding what to pack yet but keeps it to herself.  
  
After the long journeys they've taken on the mainland and the even longer journeys by sea, it doesn't take as long to get to Jormsen as Ilea remembers although back then they were seeing one another as people and Tanis hadn't opened up to her as much. This time they're able to talk freely about anything and everything, placing bets on who'll cry when they actually get married and how many verses the drinking songs will have by the morning after the wedding. Above them dragons fly, casting long shadows over them, interspersed with griffins, no longer the sole masters of Stjarnacado's skies. Finally though they reach Jormsen, hiking up the steep mountain path to the village that doesn't look too different to when they were last there only there's a real welcoming committee this time and excited children. Jormsen is north enough that the darkness they fought never gained the same sort of foothold they did elsewhere and now they've had more and more in the way of nomads or people fleeing, or, since the end of hostilities, perusing the archives to write new treaties. They're greeted by a new council of elders who usher them into the great hall of the Fangs, that imperious castle carved into the mountains. Their packs are taken upstairs as they eat and go through the necessary introductions and Ilea only wants to go to bed and sleep for a while but Tanis urges her to dress in something more comfortable and drags her down several flights of stairs and pulls open a door so a blast of steam hits her in the face.  
  
When she shrieks, Tanis' laughter echoes off high stone walls.  
  
"Relax, I thought after travelling you might enjoy this. No one else will be here if you feel shy."  
  
Blinking, Ilea finally realises where they are and gasps. "You have baths fed by hot springs!"  
  
"The rumours are true," Tanis confirms, beginning to strip off, no longer self-conscious before Ilea the way she once was. Her body has more scars than it did before but so does Ilea's telling the story of the war they fought for three long years. "Come on," she urges, slipping into the water and Ilea strips quickly, taking a seat on the edge to join her, the water far hotter than she's accustomed to.  
  
"Did you come here often?" She asks, fanning her face and wriggling her toes as Tanis wraps an arm around her shoulders.  
  
"We all do, the knights after training or anyone living in the Fangs. Our healers recommend it for the sick too."  
  
"You realise you'll have to drag my family out when they find out this is here don't you?"  
  
"Nothing like this in Tishlen?"  
  
"No, our baths are heated the normal way."  
  
"This was always the best part of the day, coming in here to relax."  
  
"Mmm, wake me up?"  
  
"I promise." Tanis sounds amused but Ilea can hear the affection in her voice, tucking herself close as she kicks her legs and moves her free hand back and forth, the ripples sending new waves of warm water over her skin. Tanis is true to her word and once it's time to get out she's wrapped in her towel and half-carried up to Tanis' rooms where they curl up under the heavy furs.  
  
In the week it takes for everyone else to arrive in Jormsen they enjoy the baths more and explore the edges of the forests, peruse the archives, play with the village children and sit in on the meetings with the elders. They visit with the dragons and sit by Brynjar's side when he returns and they feast. Honestly, Ilea's embarrassed that it takes her until the morning of the ceremony to realise that Tanis has kept her so busy so she can't ask questions but then they're being woken at first light and separated, not even allowed to eat together. Ilea's sure Tanis laughs when she waves her off.  
  
"Ilea!" Brynjar's voice makes her jump over her breakfast as he comes to sit across from her with a smile. "Enjoying your first visit to Jormsen proper?"  
  
"Tanis is very good at showing me around to keep me busy."  
  
Brynjar laughs, shaking his head. "She's like her father that way."  
  
Ilea ducks her head and tentatively places her hand over his, "I'm sorry. We are all lesser for his loss, he'll be remembered a hero."  
  
"I know and he'd be so proud, seeing you two doing this. We did something like this ourselves."  
  
"You did?"  
  
Brynjar nods, motioning for her to eat up. "It was something more common among the nomads and in the south, it's the ritual fated ones take."  
  
For a long moment she can't even breathe because she knows just what that term means to humans and she's heard the old ballad of the first two more than once in the nomad camp, catching the glimmer of tears in Hákon and Brynjar's eyes when it came up. "But I-"  
  
"In our eyes, you and Tanis are. This ceremony will affirm that prior to your wedding."  
  
"I don't even know what it is, Tanis wouldn't say."  
  
"Well Tanis is being given lessons too only she has to deal with stuffy elders and you have the honour of the king aiding you. It's simple: you stand before the council of elders, your family and friends and Solace."  
  
"Solace. I'm going to stand in front of _Solace_."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Right."  
  
"Don't look so worried," he teases, shaking his head, "you won't have to do anything awful, you just have to stand before everyone and tell her how you see her."  
  
"Why couldn't Tanis have told me that? I don't have time to prepare-"  
  
"That's the point," Brynjar interrupts. "And remember, Tanis has no knowledge of this either, this differs from the ceremony the old would take. But the point is that it shouldn't be perfect. It should simply be honest. Hold nothing back."  
  
"But you'll give me some help?"  
  
"Of course, there is some ritual to it."  
  
It takes hours but finally Ilea is ready. Supposedly. In truth, time has run out and she's dressed in a simple gown of linen, twin braids to hold most of her hair from her face and a simple meal of stew to fill her belly. A cloak is wrapped around her shoulders and she follows a young girl into a hall lined with torches with a huge fire blazing in the centre of a dais, Tanis already waiting for her with a council of elders arranged in a half circle behind Solace. It's the first time Ilea has seen her in human form, her body taller than any man, her hair a mass of wild curls, fingers ending in glossy black talons and though she seems to be wearing a form fitting garment that made of scales, Ilea soon realises that they _are_ scales, dark skin only appearing in patches, mostly on her face and neck, her hands and forearms. She smiles in reassuring as she beckons Ilea forward and raises both hands, the fire flaring high with a rushing roar before it returns to normal. Silence reigns and Ilea swallows nervously, fighting the urge to wipe her sweaty palms on her gown, wondering if this was how Tanis felt when they were in Tishlen and she was the one hoping she wouldn't embarrass herself in the eyes of strangers.  
  
"Since the old days we have always valued above all things our bonds of kith and kin; my kind and humans, the nymphs and the forests and rivers, now the elves and humans. Above all other things we have the bonds between us. Friendship, allegiance, blood and love." Solace's voice is rich and regal, filling the hall and Ilea finds herself enraptured – she understands now how Tanis' people came to listen to her words and believe in them so long ago, beginning the relationship between humankind and dragons. "Today is momentous but such words have been said already – today is about all of us yet at the same time it is not. Today belongs to these young women, bound by fate and love, two who were once enemies and now stand before us to affirm their love to one another. Please," she gestures for them to face one another across the fire and as Tanis lowers the hood of her cloak, Ilea does so too, "Tanis, daughter of Jormsen, Ilea, daughter of Tishlen, proceed. Who will begin?"  
  
"I will," Tanis replies, closing her eyes for a moment to perhaps collect herself and Ilea braces herself, swallowing hard. "When first we met I resented you. You were the enemy, you were the daughter of those who slew and enslaved my people, who stole our history, our ways, our joy. Who drove the dragons from us. I had no wish to know you and merely wished for my task to end that I might return home to Jormsen once more but then I came to know you. Not as an elf but a woman. Someone brave and caring, naïve at first coming from your ice palace and I was angry. What right did you have to care for more than yourself and your lot in life?" Across the flames separating them, Ilea can plainly see the tears on Tanis' cheeks and clenches her fists hard enough to cut half-moon grooves into her palms. "I look at you and I see someone who made me wish to be a better person, who helped me to heal from wounds I didn't know I carried with me, someone who had no need to be kind to me at all, not after how awful I was. Who bore my ill moods with grace b-but spoke her mind. You didn't back down when you spoke your mind and I respected that about you and always will. There were things I never thought I would speak of and yet with you, I found that I could. That it made my steps lighter.  
  
"And now here we stand," Tanis continues after a pause to collect herself, not even bothering to wipe her shining cheeks as she smiles through the tears, "and I am so proud to be by your side. Look at you," her voice is a hoarse whisper before she clears her throat, "you're so brave, you fight with a grace no one else could possess; I know that I can fight and not flinch when an arrow grazes past me or that you can find every weak spot in an enemy. You didn't make me feel but you helped me to see I was allowed to. That I have the right to feel angry and vulnerable and small and scared, to be selfish and enjoy myself, to take what I want. I know you are always by my side and that there is nothing I cannot confide to you and that you will do the same for me." Tanis smiles, small and watery, "there...there's more I want to say, that I should say but...but I love you."  
  
She's probably not supposed to but she sobs, bringing one fist up to bite on her knuckle, willing herself not to fall apart. Her vision is so blurred by tears that she can't see a thing and she can't even feel the worry over the spectacle she's making and how this probably isn't how it should be, that Brynjar and Tanis' father never wept like this before their band of nomads but she can't help it, trying to breathe. It's her turn next after all.  
  
"I was curious at first," Ilea begins when Solace looks at her, smiling and nodding for her to speak as she tries to absorb all that Tanis has said, forcing herself not to skirt the flames and pull the other woman into her arms. "I had seen the human slaves of my city, I had been told the same histories as all elves but I had never met a human knight before. I thought you were made of ice and stone like some of the stories I heard as a child. I wanted to get under your skin because I couldn't understand you – no, I did, I understood _why_ you might react the way that you did to things – but I wanted to know _you_. And when you saved my life, I knew that part of me was lost. You had a life that I envied, being able to be so alone and self-sufficient but there was a pain in you that I wanted to ease. It was selfish at first. I thought I could swoop in and save the day." The admission makes her cheeks heat with shame, shaking her head as she unclenches her fingers at last. "There was a guilt, a selfish guilt; what happened to you was a product of what my people inflicted upon yours over so many years. I wanted you to...not to be more? But to be you. To be you if you had never had to make the choices that you had to make. You have the worst temper, you always will. You are stubborn as a mule and you're still so reckless – when there's danger you get this _look_ in your eyes and it's wild and beautiful. Like you. You're like a force of nature when you fight but you're gentle too, warm and loving. No matter how long I live I will never forget you, I will _never_ love someone as much as I love you. You mean everything to me." The last words are forced out, her knees trembling and Solace places a clawed hand around her wrist. "I'm so _proud_ Tanis. Of you. Of everything you are and choose to be. I love you."  
  
She's dimly aware of noise in the room but Solace is tugging her and suddenly Tanis is there and clutching her close so that Ilea can sob into her shoulder in front of everyone without a care as Solace presses a kiss to her head then Tanis'.  
  
"And I am so proud of you both," she whispers to them and Ilea can feel Tanis laugh before she sobs again, relieved and breathless, more in love than she has ever been.


	4. Wedding

"A _week_!" Ilea shouts as she storms into Tanis' chamber in the Fangs causing Tanis to curse in fright, dropping her comb to the stone floor with a clatter.  
  
"Hush! You're louder than Ferrum in the forge," Tanis hisses, moving to haul Ilea into her room and close the door. "Now why did you come barging into my room this early, shouting your head off?"  
  
"A week of feasting?"  
  
"Not just feasting. I have to prove myself and so do you."  
  
"So our ceremony in the hall-"  
  
"Is important and meaningful." Tanis has had many years to learn how to conceal any hurt she has felt, there for only an instant before a blank mask disguises it and Ilea can feel her stomach sinking, guilt making her cheeks flush as she grips Tanis' hands and squeezes, bringing them to her lips to whisper sorry between kisses to her knuckles. Tanis nods and the placid mask is gone, replaced by a warmer smile, small and shy. "But words are not all," she continues, "words will fill your heart but not your belly. They might warm your cheeks for a moment but not all of you when winter is upon your home, do you take my meaning?"  
  
"I...I think so?" The past months have seen she and Tanis using their own tongues more, not the curious language they made with Oran on their travels and she misses it, fearing she'll somehow forget it. Back home Tanis has fallen back to her own tongue, her accent stronger and sharper and Ilea is ashamed that she never noticed how the people of Jormsen phrased things so poetically in the past. Then again she only had Tanis and Tanis had never been one to speak much of ritual. "Is this something you cannot explain to me, like the ceremony?"  
  
Shaking her head, Tanis moves to retrieve her comb to sit beside Ilea, pressing it into her hands and Ilea grins because it's like when they were courting and Tanis first began to comb her hair when she asked. "No – Brynjar told me after that you knew that I was as much in the dark as you. We lost so much and now we will take from the old and – well I suppose the old but not so old – and we shall make something new of them. But this is akin to life here. We prove ourselves before we are apprenticed to a task. Usually with the older folk they've already done so over the course of their lives so there is a feast of three days because it was all we could truly spare and when you are old, you make less fuss over things. Apparently."  
  
Ilea nods, carefully dragging the comb through Tanis' hair because she understands just how important this is and the hopes and dreams and tentative alliances that ride on the success of their knightings and engagements and ceremonies and weddings. Proof that two cultures can come together. Proof that there is a strong empire to be forged from this even if Ilea knows her parents would rather she had been able to wed some young man who might give her children. She puts such thoughts from her mind and starts to section Tanis' hair so she might braid it, something simple to keep the hair from her face.  
  
"Tanis?" She prompts when the explanation stops suddenly and Tanis jumps a little; as ever, she's fallen into a daze as soon as Ilea's fingers touch her hair.  
  
"Gerenthe. As far as I can tell from what Brynjar told me – he and my father were obsessed with the old days," she pretends to sound annoyed but Ilea can hear the little catch in her throat of pain and grief and fondness.  "You used to show what you could do for that other person. So say one of you hunted then you brought food to your home and one would then cook to and it was equal. If one skinned the wild beasts then the other made things of them such as blankets or clothes. Perhaps one knew all the plants to be used to heal but the other crafted them or even grew them closer to home in a little garden – someone tried to court my mother that way once but she refused him, or so she said."  
  
"Do you have to catch everything for the feast?"  
  
Tanis snorts with laughter, attempting to shake her head only to find she can't, not with Ilea's fingers busy braiding it into a long fishtail braid she can wear with ease. "No, that part is just the celebration for everyone else and for us, I think that part stems from long _long_ ago when we would make offerings to the dragons in hopes they would bless our unions. Anything less than three days is considered poor. The week is us showing off because this is an important wedding and Brynjar said a lot more but I stopped listening after the elders butted in, old bags of skin that they are."  
  
"So...you'll hunt then?"  
  
"I thought I could hunt and you could cook – you've seen my cooking and no one has ever died from it but it would cast a poor light on proceedings, yes?"  
  
Ilea well remembers the meat Tanis would cook in the camp for the long months when it was only them and Oran, the meat blackened and charred on the outside but still cool and bloody on the inside and manages to suppress the shudder.  
  
"I can't make things though."  
  
"So I'll bring you some things to skin and I'll manage to make a thick blanket of them."  
  
"What about healing plants? Tanis I grew up in a _palace_ -"  
  
"Ilea," carefully Tanis turns, Ilea pinching the braid so she doesn't lose her place, Tanis awkwardly cupping her cheek, "you've spent so long on the road with me and look at me – I lived in the wilds and I can't cook food through all the way! We'll be fine, you'll see. Come, finish this and I'll braid yours and we can go to breakfast and meet Oran."

* * *

  
  
Unlike Tishlen where Oran stood alone as the sole nymph, there are many in Jormsen, creeping forth from the forest or splashing through the long river that weaves through the village, fed from one of the great mountain falls. Shadows of dragons loom overhead and the village is crowded, like some sort of festival, the nomads and others who ventured to the wedding setting up makeshift homes between buildings with carts and wagons dotted here and there. They find Oran amusing a group of children by allowing her vines to sneak out to tickle or tap them causing the children to shriek in laughter, running between adults trying to do their work to find new hiding places. They whine when Tanis and Ilea appear to steal Oran away only for nymphs in the river to send water splashing their way and they're off with their new friends. Oran greet s them both in a tight embrace, her arms and vines clutching them tight and she plucks flowers free – Ilea will never not wince at that – to weave into their hair as they move away from the village and to the edges of the forest to talk and plan in peace.  
  
Tanis is the one to explain it all to Oran seeing as it's her tradition although from her hesitance it's clear that she's still adjusting to these new ways just as much as Ilea is struggling to learn them. Oran nods throughout but she keeps grinning the way she always has and does so with the telltale rustle of leaves that gives away her laughter.  
  
"I love you both dearly but your traditions are so very strange. And you are already seen as entwined in the eyes of the Old Mother," she says, folding her arms and looking between both of them.  
  
"Well we're human and elven," Ilea replies with a shrug, "ceremonies and rituals are what we're good at."  
  
"You said you have to prove you can provide?" Oran asks, sounding unimpressed, waiting for Tanis to nod. "Does everything you two have done together prove nothing?"  
Tanis groans, looking like she wants to curl up on the ground and stay there forever. " _Yes_. I said those exact same things to Brynjar and do you know what he said to me?" Both Ilea and Oran shake their heads because Ilea hasn't heard this part yet and she expects to hear something about traditions or the sort of lecture her own father might give her only for Tanis to sigh dramatically. "He said I had no sense of romance!" This time Oran doesn't even bother to hide her laughter and Ilea fears she's going to be sick as she doubles over, both of them wheezing as Tanis stares on with wounded dignity in her eyes and that only sets Ilea off even worse. Oran ends up falling off the log they're sitting on, collapsing in a heap of leaves, shrubs and pine needles, startling a pair of small birds that flap off with angry twittering. "When you're both quite finished," Tanis mutters under her breath, striving to sound composed and removed from the situation. Ilea helps Oran back up, wiping at her eyes with her free hand.  
  
"He does have a point Tanis," Oran points out when she can actually speak without spluttering and thus resuming her giggles. "Remember when you both tried courting? You stomped around like a giant the whole time."  
  
"Or the time you gave me that necklace at the nomad camp. You sort of just thrust it at me," Ilea adds, miming the gesture and the terrified look Tanis had had on her face at the time.  
  
"You are the worst friends I could ever have."  
  
"She's about to be the worst _wife_ you could ever have."  
  
Oran's words set Ilea off again but this time Tanis snorts and shakes her head, her braid coming loose as she does so but she's smiling, warm and fond and it's still not something Ilea sees often enough.  
  
"Look, we need ideas here for providing for one another, simple things we can do that won't delay the wedding longer than necessary so we can finally have some privacy." Tanis' words finally sober them as Oran tilts her head to the side in thought.  
  
"So one hunts and one cooks," she begins and Ilea regrets not bringing something to write with because she's sure she'll forget all of this as soon as they leave this little spot.  "What if one skinned something that the other caught and the one who hunted it made a gift of that?"  
  
"That could work," Tanis agrees and Ilea shrugs because she's happy enough to skin whatever Tanis brings back, "I could teach Ilea a few more herbs so she could spot them in a garden at least – it's the wrong season for a lot of things to be grown. You could demonstrate your archery on the range-"  
  
"Oh! You could move the targets further back to prove how keen my eyes are!"  
  
"Exactly. So...hunting and cooking, hunting and skinning and fashioning an item, archery – I can make you arrows easily enough, they don't have to be pretty – and herbs so I can make healing salves of some description, that's four things," Tanis lists, counting them off on her fingers.  
  
"I still say the war and the reunification of elves, humans and nymphs should count," Oran mutters crossly, hand outstretched for a small bird to land and pluck at some sort of grub.  
  
"And I invite you to tell our elders and families that because Solace knows they won't listen to either of us," Tanis retorts, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin on her hands as she stares into space.  
  
"Some of them will take more than one night, won't they?" Ilea asks and Tanis nods. "So we're set?"  
  
"It would seem that way."  
  
They should be happier, Ilea is sure because Tanis looks like she's about to descend into the depths of the dwarven empire as they did several years ago, the reluctant scowl on her face, her jaw squared. Surely it can't be that awful when they've faced so much worse.

* * *

  
  
Thank Solace for their inclusion in the nightly feasts because it means Ilea and Tanis are given respite from one another as their wedding draws closer and closer. Ilea had forgotten how much she disliked skinning animals in truth and Tanis is irritated with the long process of fletching arrows or preparing a blanket from the bear she killed. Ilea's head hurts from trying to make sure she remembers all the different plants because she has no idea how Tanis can tell them apart so quickly and easily from just a single leaf or a cursory sniff to guide her. Maybe this is part of the test but she's too tired at night to do much more than press a kiss somewhere in the vicinity of Tanis' mouth before they retire to bed each night before rising early to continue on with their demonstrations that they can provide.  
  
That they've made it three years together should speak volumes and so should the ache in her jaw from clenching her teeth so she doesn't shout at Tanis on particularly trying days but at last Brynjar is able to clap his hands together at the end of the seventh feast to say that the wedding will be conducted at noon the next day. It's a hint to Tanis and Ilea that they should flee the hall and begin their preparations and Ilea is suddenly nervous, seeking Tanis only to find that northern girls have intercepted her to lead her to the baths ahead of Tanis. She's thankful for the warm water but she's entirely alone and feels self-conscious and silly, aware of every sound she makes as she scrubs her skin and washes her hair, her gasps when she plunges under the water with her eyes closed and again when she breaks the surface. She's never been shy about nudity before but she is when she has to dry herself alone in here with human girls she doesn't know waiting to lead her back.  
  
"Why do I have a guard about me?" She asks on the way back to her chambers though it's the last night she'll spend in them after tomorrow and that thought works well at chasing away her nerves, replacing them with giddiness.  
  
"It goes back to the old days," one of the girls begins after a brief discussion between the small group, their speech too low and quick for Ilea to understand, "we are to guard you from any and all attacks that might come."  
  
"Solace herself appointed us!" Another chips in with a proud smile and the rest nod quickly.  
  
The first girl – Ilea will need to ask their names, if she's allowed to know them – continues. "In times of old when we still had kingdoms and clans it began, to guard the intended from all attacks with the guard consisting of members of the other household. It was to show you had the strength and will to keep that person safe."  
  
A different girl follows on from that, opening the door to Ilea's chambers for her as she speaks. "It was a show of trust – each household being entrusted to look after the son or daughter of the other and to send their own kin too. Most believed that attacks would come from within you see and if the defending was done poorly or harm came to one of those guarded then the marriage could be called off on those grounds."  
  
"So were they kin, these guards?"  
  
"Aye, usually siblings or cousins, aunts or uncles or so on depending on the size of the family. If it was a late marriage or a second marriage and more adults were involved then close friends could be counted upon and if you were nobility or royalty you'd send guards and knights. A show of strength."  
  
"So you're friends of Tanis?" Ilea asks because it's hard to picture Tanis with friends that aren't other knights although she knows that she and Torrin have always been close but he's a smith so Ilea tends to lump him in with the knights.  
  
"We're all her half-sisters," the second girl says with a shy smile and Ilea steps back to take a look at them; Tanis favours her mother and now that she really looks, she can see the similarities but the noses throw her (Tanis has Hákon's nose) and one of the girls has grey eyes, not the hazel the rest got from Ragna. "Sleep well Ilea, we will keep you safe from harm this night."  
  
"Jernen," she replies quietly, the human word for thanks slipping from her tongue easily as the sisters nod and close the door behind her.  
  
She should rest she knows, it's been a long week and it's quiet in the chambers, no noise from the great hall echoing up here the way it would in the palace at Tishlen but as she starts to braid her damp her before sleep she's restless, the nerves returning stronger than ever. She's already married and Tanis loves her as much as she loves Tanis, a love that came from nowhere and overcame all that stood against it, lasting a war and the aftermath. The wedding sounds like a mere formality after the ceremony in the depths of the Fangs and the past week of proving themselves but she paces the room once her hair is done. There are no windows in this part of the Fangs because it's carved into the mountain itself and her room is on the wrong side of the hall and instead there are tapestries hung depicting histories Ilea can't read. Tanis would explain them and she wants to sneak out and creep into her bed but she can hear the muffled whispered conversation of the young women outside the door as if they were in the room with her and Tanis—  
  
A laugh bubbles out of her and she slaps her hands over her mouth before someone comes to check she's not going mad entirely. Her siblings guarding Tanis. Grave and severe and forced to spend the whole night awake and away from the feast. Quickly she throws herself into bed – the blanket Tanis made for her is here, someone must have moved it, she'll need to ask them to have it placed in Tanis' room for tomorrow though she doubts they'll have a need of it at first – and uses the pillow to muffle her laughter. Her stomach hurts from it and the pillow is wet from tears but the laughter has done something so she flips it and pulls the blanket up around her shoulders for warmth, willing herself to drift off to sleep.

* * *

  
  
Dawn arrives all too soon with her door being flung open as Ragna appears with a tray of light foods and a small army of elves Ilea knows well from Tishlen following behind her. It's a long time until noon and her stomach churns with anxiety but she knows she should eat and it's light food, mostly fruits, cubes of cheese and small cuts of meat with a cup of watered honey wine so she nibbles here and there as elves bustle and bring chests carried with them from Tishlen, the wedding gown she's only seen in glimpses when it was being fitted, swatches of fabric held against her skin before her parents and older siblings murmured amongst themselves and she shivered in a thin slip in a room of mirrors.  
  
"Nervous?" Ragna asks with a smile when Ilea takes a break from eating, laughing at the frantic nodding. "Tanis is the same, I'm glad Brynjar said he'd see to her, people with fire dragon hearts don't do well with nerves and when they also happen to be Tanis..." Ragna trails off and Ilea snorts so hard she almost chokes.  
  
"Are your daughters sleeping?" Ilea asks suddenly and Ragna looks surprised for half a moment before nodding and Ilea has to wonder if she's stepped too far. Jormsen's ideas of childrearing are complicated and she's only ever had Tanis as a main source and Tanis wasn't the norm, not as a Dragon Knight.  
  
"They are, they kept you safe through the night and they'll lead you to the ceremony but for now you'll need to get ready and they need to be able to walk without falling over themselves." She pauses, smoothing her skirts out as Ilea keeps eating in the hopes her stomach will eventually settle before she wets her lips and turns to look at Ilea. "Did they tell you?"  
  
"I asked about whether they were a guard or not, if I'd been less tired I would have spotted it, they share a likeness," Ilea answers with a smile and Ragna nods, her own smile proud.  
  
"All my children seemed to favour me in looks at least."  
  
"If I may say, that is not a bad thing at all." They both laugh, Ragna squeezing one of Ilea's hands lightly before Ilea clears her throat. "I'm sure they all share your heart too. Tanis told me of you, H- Hákon too and now I've come to know you, I know what drove her and kept her going on the worst parts of our journey together. Tanis would call it duty to her people but I know that even when she didn't want to, she loved this place, the people, your history – she loved it all. And I know that much of that is from you."  
Ragna is quiet for a long time, taking Ilea's empty tray to set it down on the desk Ilea hasn't used once since she came here and Ilea studies her, the set of her shoulders, the way her head drops forward and she's about to apologise when the woman turns, smiling and with a hint of tears in her eyes. "You honour me with your words. I always worried about Tanis the more I knew her...there was much she did that opened my eyes. I wanted all my children to be as happy as they could in this world and now..."  
  
"And now they have that," Ilea finishes, her throat almost too tight to speak and Ragna nods again.  
  
"Ilea!" The trilling voice has both of them jumping as an elven woman in a sky blue gown with fur trim about the throat appears. "Oh congratulations your grace, and to you as well, Ragna, mother of Tanis."  
  
"I'll let you get on, here," Ragna plucks a small pouch from her pockets and shows Ilea the contents. "Chew a little of it and swallow before you leave, it calms the nerves. Tanis took some before her knighting in Tishlen."  
  
"Jernen," Ilea whispers, leaning up to kiss Ragna on the cheek as she glides past the assembled elves, leaving Ilea alone to deal with being primped and prepared for a day she'd never envisaged as something she'd be taking part in willingly. There's a lot to be said about actually finding the person you want to be with for as long as you can. So she gets to her feet, plucks loose the small ribbon tying her braid and shakes her hair loose as she steps forward for the assembled elves to get a good look at her, feeling like cattle at the market as she's circled, wondering if Tanis feels the same way or if she's been privy to whatever she's wearing to this wedding first.  
  
"Well, we had best get started," the elf Ilea assumes is in charge says and two others step forward, one to start smoothing some sort of balm across her skin, another to comb her hair. "We could do a tight bun and leave some hair free at the front or we could sweep it to one side, braid it back and lead those into the bun?"  
  
"I-"  
  
But Ilea is shushed immediately and sighs quietly as the one applying the balm starts to rub it into her arms; Ilea doesn't get a say in these proceedings and her contributions are only going to hold them up. "Yes, I think with the braids," the elf in charge continues, moving to open the chests and Ilea strains her eyes seeing as she can't move her head or she'll rip her hair out as the elf behind her begins to style it as discussed though she does jump when balm is applied to her legs prompting a muttered apology. What she assumes is her dress is wrapped in silk so she sighs and gives up. She won't see it until they want her to see it apparently. There's more movement but she closes her eyes and repeats a quiet mantra in her head because sitting still like this is intolerable when the only movement she's really allowed is to bounce her knees until she's stopped from doing that as a pair of silk stockings are rolled up and over her feet.  
  
There are no mirrors the whole time she's being prepared and the ones present in the room are covered before her hair is done so she has no idea what sort of makeup has been applied to her face though thankfully it's not the paint they covered her in before the knighting in Tishlen. It was intolerably cold – enough so that she shivers just thinking about it – and it set so hard she was sure it would crack if she moved her mouth more than a fraction of an inch. Tanis had hated it when they'd had to spend hours in the bath scrubbing it off later, too exhausted to do much of anything. Not the sort of thing she wants a repeat of on her wedding night. She's told to look up, to stop scowling (she's not scowling, she's concentrating but her mother always said the same thing too and Ilea has learned not to waste time arguing) so they can paint her lips too and she feels like a doll or a canvas. Her shift is eventually stripped away, the stockings rolled up all the way and she's instructed to close her eyes as they finally get to her dress. She could defy them and now that her face is made up so perfectly they couldn't really stop her and she's very tempted but part of her wants to see the whole finished article at once so she does as she's told and steps into the gown, a long line of buttons (Tanis is going to complain about that and she smirks) up the back but no sleeves to speak of. Next there is jingling and clinking, the shock of cold metal against her skin as something heavy is fastened into place sitting high on her throat and over her shoulders, trailing down and over her back in what feel like rows connected at the shoulders, passing down between her breasts to fasten about her waist and around her hips. Someone slips her feet into her shoes, lacing them carefully and a crown is put in place. Her palms are sweating and she fights the impulse to rub them on her skirts before she's turned and instructed to open her eyes.  
  
When she does, she barely recognises herself. The crown is hers and she knows it best, tiny white gems encrusting the whole of it with seven peaks, one central and tallest and three at either side, more a circlet than a crown and slipped carefully into her braids. Her eyes are dark, lined with kohl, purple blended into grey and black on the lids, her lips lightly stained a little darker than usual. The gown is layers of silk and gossamer, the bodice tight and fitted, the skirts following the flare of hips before flaring out, but the colour is what draws her eye; around her middle is mulberry that blends into darker and darker shades that go to the top of the bodice and to the skirts that touch the floor. It's more beautiful than she thought, a more dramatic gown than any she's ever seen worn by her brother's wives but none of them were princesses in their own right. But over the dress is a strange combination of jewellery and bodice crafted of jewels and she knows this, knows that this is the way of her people, to wear their wealth upon them but she's never seen something so elaborate before and she twists this way and that, marvelling at diamonds and pearls and opals set into metal fittings cut to fit her perfectly.  
  
"You look beautiful," the elf in charge whispers and Ilea is inclined to agree, a girlish giggle escaping her before there's a knock on the door and everyone is suddenly bowing in the presence of her father who stands with his mouth hanging open when he sees her. The elves file out, leaving them alone – she can hear the voices of her honour guard outside, no doubt ready to follow them and where did all the time go?  
  
"Father?" She asks at last when he says nothing and that brings him back to the present, shaking his head as he crosses the room, his cape trailing after him. He's in purple tones too, robes Ilea vaguely remembers from her childhood with new fittings, dressed as a king should be but the awe on his face makes him look, she supposes, like anyone's father.  
  
"I never thought I would see this day," he says quietly, taking her hands in his, "it took so long for you to arrive, the daughter we longed for and then with all that—"  
  
"Father," she instructs, cupping his face with one hand, "none of that today. Today is a happy day. Today is the future."  
  
"Then you will have to forgive me the tears that will come when I see you joining hands with the woman you love in that hall soon."  
  
"Are they going to be happy tears?"  
  
"Of course!" He sounds scandalised and she remembers all the discussions they had, how he still worries that she thinks he thinks poorly of Tanis or their relationship when she knows he doesn't and it makes her smile.  
  
"Then you don't need to apologise. Could you hand me that pouch?" He does so and she takes a pinch of whatever's in there, the taste not as dire as she feared. "Herbs from Ragna, to settle my stomach," she replies to his unasked question.  
  
"A fine woman, I see where Tanis gets much of it from, Brynjar assures me the rest is from her father."  
  
"It is. I wish he could have been here too, all he ever wanted was this." She sighs, swallowing careful before linking arms with her father. "Shall we?"  
  
"We have time to take the walk slowly though your honour guard are very anxious to see you there safely, I fear your brothers had to have their role explained to them several times but rest assured, your intended is within the hall."  
  
Suddenly she wants to run there, to have it all over and done with so Tanis is her wife but she walks slowly with her father, one girl leading them, another behind and one to her side and Torrin is at the other, sending Ilea a smile as her father rambles on until they reach the doors of the hall at last.  
  
"I love you Ilea," her father blurts, "I know I never said it much, I was never good at sentiment but I love you."  
  
"I know," she smiles and wipes away one of his tears, "I love you too."  
  
Then the doors are opening and her father is leading her into the hall, the honour guard falling away to find their seats as a figure stands at the front of the hall in a gown of shimmering golden scales and Ilea feels her heart soar. She keeps her eyes downcast though to avoid all the faces no doubt staring at her as she and her father walk down the aisle to where Tanis is waiting for her. Solace stands above them as she did at their ceremony, smiling encouragingly and then her father is placing her hand in one of Tanis', taking his place beside her mother and family, Brynjar, Ragna, Oran and others on the opposite front row for Tanis. She finally gets a look at Tanis, her hair worn down as normal but with silver and gold chains strung through the back of it, a necklace of gold stars around her throat, her eyes lined black and gold – she looks otherworldly, like a dragon herself and Ilea squeezes her hand tight as Solace speaks of unions and bonds and love. It's a short wedding after the ceremony and the week of proving themselves but it still feels like forever before Solace declares them wed, Ilea presenting Tanis with a gold band set with a moonstone, the ring from Tanis a silver band with the strange black stone mottled with white patches rarely found in the north and loved by the elves of Tishlen. She bites her lip as Tanis sets it in place, sharing a glance with her.  
  
When Solace says they may kiss, Ilea's laugh at Tanis' muttered 'finally' is lost in the kiss and the thunderous applause and cheers that follow.


End file.
